


Death’s Mess

by fandomcuddles



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 10:06:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17723129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomcuddles/pseuds/fandomcuddles
Summary: Aaron, your best friend, accidentally pushes you a little too far in his practice game and ends up giving you more than you can handle. Thus, leading you to create a mess that could cost his life. Daryl, your boyfriend, doesn't seem to understand where this had come from and slowly harbors anger towards you and explodes in a violent matter. Aaron tries to defend you, but it might be too late.





	1. A Little Too Far

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not completely satisfied with this and it has yet to be proofread, but I just HAD TO POST IT. Hope y'all are having a wonderful day <3

There on the floor is Death, in all his glory and gore. Looking up at the fuel in your eyes; dangerous and wild circles spinning around in that mind of yours. And in those orbits, pools of entanglements and infinite paths, there Death could see what you truly were in these moments. A sinner. 

Death is not a thing that bothers you; for it is a natural thing, balance. Yet, here you are, gun in hand, covered in blood from head to toe; replaying the events that had played on just now and being confused by them. 

You are shaking, you don't know if it's the cold or the fact that you shot someone. Blood is splattered against the cold hard floor, pools of life that go on forever; the origin of this pool is a lifeless Aaron. 

He was one of them, you repeated those words in your head like the guilt would vanish from your shoulders any time soon. But, you know the guilt is there; you had to be held accountable. Everyone is held accountable in this world. 

This is not something you could blame on circumstances. Doors closing is the only sound you hear, guessing people heard the tumultuous sounds that resounded from your Beretta.

It's a sight to see, you have a gun raised at the gathering crowd; waving it violently as tears slip through your dull eyes and your mouth mumbles incoherences. You can see Rick is talking to you, but words are beyond your comprehension at this point. They didn't know, they could never know. 

You know, at this moment, as you look down at Aaron's lifeless body, that it was him, and in fact, not a walker. 

"I said-" Rick is now walking towards you, hands raised up as a sign that he means no harm. His words are now clear as day and they flow rapidly through the thick air. 

"lower the gun or I will make you."

His fingers touch the gun ever so subtly, lowering it slowly yet surely as he takes it from your hand. 

"Has anyone seen Eric?" Rick questioned. 

At this, you remember Aaron's significant other, Eric. Eric will be devastated, heartbroken. At least, he will feel a fraction of what you are feeling now; a little bit differently, but that's enough. 

Speak of the Devil and he shall come; a sob is heard from the end of the street, Eric falls on his knees as he takes in the scene he wishes would not have happened. 

"What did you do?!" A questioning crack is evident in his voice, not helping your situation or mental state. 

"Aaron, he-" You stop mid sentence. 

They could never know, you kept on repeating yourself. Is it worth it though? Risking your safety for a valid reason. 

Just then Michonne's voice ran distinctively through the now gathered crowd, "(Y/N), for fucks sake! Answer the question or I swear I will shoot you right here." 

No longer is Michonne's voice that of a friend; it is now distant, as if she's treating a stranger instead of family. 

"What's goin' on here?" The voice of the man you have given your all to questioned as he got out of his bike and starts walking towards the crowd.

You notice Daryl's horror as he stands in front of the crowd and sees the blood in you; looking down at the body next to you. 

You took a leap of faith and ran; running for the walls as fast as you could and jumping over them. You ran to the sniper tower you know Sasha is in, at least she doesn't know. 

There you remain the rest of the day and night; a coward, too weak to show. Right or wrong, a sinner is what you are now. 

You were never a devoted Catholic, but you had grown in a family who did have principles. One of them being: do not kill. And still, you did it. 

——

"You still in here?" Sasha's low voice rumbled around the four walls of the small tower. 

It is now morning. The sunlight shun through the windows, as if nothing had happened just yesterday. The world kept on going. 

"Yes." Your voice sounds hoarse, product of not drinking anything for the last 20 something hours. 

"He's not dead." 

A whiplash takes over you as you lift your head up so rapidly at the premise that left Sasha's lips. Groaning you lift your hand up to your sore neck, damning it to hell. 

"But, before you say anything to me. I think there is someone waiting for you besides Aaron's bed in the doctor's office. You should go." 

At this, you take up path to the office, passing the gates you escaped through in desperate times. 

"Why?" 

These are the first words that Daryl speaks as you walk through the set of doors in Denise's office; anger evident in his voice as he looks at the bed where Aaron is laid, livid and awake. 

You ignore the question, rapidly running up to Aaron and looking him up and down; checking where the gunshots had landed. 

"Aaron-" Aaron raised a hand up, wincing in pain and putting it back on the bed.

"I know why you did it. I could see it, feel it, hear it; I'm sure you don't remember it, but I do. In that moment, all you saw was a walker, not me. In your eyes I was never Aaron in that moment. I was your biggest nightmare, the culprit of your weekly funerals and cries. I understand." His voice was calm and collected; something you didn't expect. 

"I forgive you. Though i'm gonna have a bitch scar when it all heals. You, um, you should clean up. My blood doesn't look good on you." Only Aaron could joke at a time like this; still Daryl looks at you with cold, distant eyes. Eyes that hold unrecognizable anger in them, harbored towards you; this sends shivers down your spine. 

"Daryl, I didn't-" 

"Ya' didn't what? Didn't mean it?! He's still fucking laying in a bed with a gunshot in his chest. Don't tell me ya' didn't mean it. To hell with you! Always a dumb bitch who's scared of er' thing she sees." A sharp intake of breath is the only audible thing in the room, from where Aaron is laid in the bed; he's surprised by the word choice Daryl uses when referring to his significant other, you. 

"It's okay Aaron." You say, giving him a small smile and leaving the office; returning back home, to your house, and gathering some clothes so you could stay over at Rick's.


	2. Someone Important

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month later, Daryl is still giving you the cold shoulder. Aaron tries to pacify things, but only makes them potentially worse. Will Death still prevail in Daryl's mind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second and last part. Requests are always open.

A month has passed since the incident with Aaron. Luckily, the gunshot didn't puncture anything important and he was already up and running. You are extremely relieved by this, but still things remain tense. No one trusts you anymore and the doubt that you'll do something like that again, remains. 

Aaron understands why you did it. He had pushed too far in training and it had been too much, too realistic. 

Daryl is still giving you the cold shoulder, leaving you to wonder when this childish act of him will pass. You moved in with Rick since that day and as much as it irritated you hearing him have sex with Michonne, it's still better than having to face Daryl. 

Still, even in his stubbornness, you saw he worried about you. You'd sometimes catch him asking Aaron about your well-being and how you were holding up. 

"Earth to (Y/N)!" Aaron shouts from the bottom of the stairs, climbing each one carefully. 

You smile and scoot over, making space so he could sit down comfortably. 

"If you've come to ask me how I am- I'm fine. Same as every other day." You say, looking up at the gray sky. 

"Hi, I'm fine. Thanks for asking!" Aaron exclaims sarcastically. 

"I'm sorry-" 

"It's stupid. Don't be. I come baring gifts and that's all that matters." 

"Gifts?" You question, wondering if you've forgotten a holiday during all of this commotion. 

It's been so long since you last opened a gift, you've forgotten what it feels like. 

"I know you don't like birthdays or birthday parties for that matter, but I just thought turning 21 had to be something special to you before all of this. You once mentioned in one of our gatherings that your birthday was on (Y/B/D) so, today is that day. I took it upon myself to get you something...special. I'm sorry if I over stepped my boundaries or anything." 

"I'm just wondering how I forgot my own birthday. Am I really that dumb?" You question and laugh. Frankly, after all of this you are still surprised he knows what say it is. 

"Still, Aaron, I thank you, you didn't have to, but you did." Hugging him carefully, you look over at the next door porch and see Daryl standing there with a cigarette in his hand. 

Clearing your throat and pulling back from the hug, you ask Aaron what the present is. 

"I remembered how you said that before all of this, you used to paint and sketch. So I brought you a sketchpad and some colored pencils. I thought it would bring you joy to do what you once loved at least a few times more." 

You are surprised to say the least. He really listens to you when you ramble on and on about your passions. 

"...you don't like it?" Aaron asks, 

"No! I mean- Of course I like it. It just took me by surprise. I love it. Oh-" You pause to grab the gift from his hands and trail your hands above the hard cover, "thank you so much." 

A while later, Aaron said he needed to go check some things back in the armory and stood up. Walking down the stairs, he winced a little. 

"Hey Aaron?" 

"Yes?" He says as he turns around a little bit. 

"I love you." You smile and watch his face as he reacts. 

"You sure? 'Cause the wound says otherwise." He jokes, making you glare at him. 

"I love you too. Now go draw something. I expect you make good use of that." 

"I intend to!" You say as you stand up, turn around and enter the house. 

Hours have passed since you first sat in the kitchen table and started drawing. People came by and sat down with you sometimes, seeing what you were roughly sketching and leaving after a while. 

"(Y/N), do you want dinner?" Carl's voice rang through the silent home. 

"Yes! I'm starving." You say, as you remember you haven't eaten all day. 

"Where did you even get that? You've been at it all day." 

"Aaron gave it to me as a present." You say excitedly, followed by a curse word when you draw a line out of proportion. 

"A present? So, are you two like a couple now? Did he leave Eric? You've grown pretty close, even more so after the accident. One would think it would have drifted you guys apart, but nope!" 

You snort, the thought of Aaron leaving Eric and being with you being too absurd. 

"No, we are NOT a couple. He's more like a big brother Carl. Kind of like you and Judith." 

"Good, because Daryl was getting mad and he seemed pissed off this morning when my dad wanted to lift your gun probation. Which, by the way, is lifted. That's why we're having dinner at Carol's today and why they sent me here, so come on." Carl says as he grabs your arm and takes you out the door and into Carol's house at an ungodly speed. 

"Jesus Carl slow down. I left my sketchbook ya know." You say as you sit down in the living room with everyone else. 

"Good. Ya' need a break." Rick said as he hands you a plate full of pasta, your favorite. 

"I don't need a break. It's my birthday and I intend to do what I like and love. Sketch, draw and paint. That's what I did for a living. That's what I'll do till the day I die Rick." You say, as you look around and notice everyone is looking at you. 

"What?" You question. 

"It's your birthday. You didn't say anything." Rick said as he shifted on his seat, next to Michonne. 

"I didn't think it was important. Plus, I did things that I liked all through the day. Now I get to keep the painting and ya know, not sell it or anything." You say as you smile and catch a pillow that Carl threw to you. 

"Sell it? What do you mean? " Carol says from the kitchen. 

"Well-" 

"You're (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?" Michonne's voice grows an octave as she demonstrates recognition. 

"The one and only." You say as you play with the pillow, suddenly being self conscious with all the attention. 

"Never told anyone. Just went by my name. No photos. No records. Nothing. Sold my art anonymously through people I knew, same thing with my songs. Just never liked the attention because I had people I needed to care for at that moment. I just needed the money. " You explain, trying to avoid any side notes and going straight to the point. 

"Ya' never told me that." Daryl huffs. 

"And he speaks!" You say. Daryl's silent treatment was now somewhat lifted and he seems rather annoyed that you didn't tell him this part of your life. 

"But, I guess since the world went to hell, it's safe to say that yes, I'm (Y/N) (Y/L/N)." You smile, looking up at Michonne through your dark lashes. 

"I had one you know. Dama de Bala. Paid a whole awful lot for it, now it's just...gone." Michonne's voice grows distant as you see her eyes cloud, maybe she was remembering the older times. The simplicity. 

"I'm gonna go outside. Save me a plate, 'm not hungry right now." Daryl says as he stands up and walks through the front door. You follow suit, excusing yourself. 

Once outside, you close the door slowly behind you and admire the starry night. It was times like this you remembered the pollution there was once in the world, now there was none, or close to none. 

Daryl is leaning against the railing, smoking a cigarette. He knows you hate that habit, but he just couldn't help himself. 

"Why'd ya' follow me? 'm not in the mood to fight with ya'." Puffing the air out, he takes the cigarette from his mouth and adjusts it in between his fingers. Slender fingers that once adored your curved body, now adored the silhouette of a damned cigarette. 

"Is that what you think I'm here for? To fight?" You ask. 

"and what about it?" Daryl refutes. 

Daryl is being mean, and he knows that, but he doesn't want to let his guard down again. He doesn't understand why though. He loves you, but he can't bring himself to understand this part of you. 

"There's nothing wrong with it. I told you. I'm not here to fight. I'm just...here. I just want you to listen. I know it's hard to understand why I did it, but I don't need to explain myself to you." 

"Oh, but you sure as hell need to explain it to Aaron, don't ya'?" Daryl asks, jealousy is evident in his words. 

"I mean, I did shot him. I believe he needed it." You say grimly, tired of Daryl's childish behavior. 

"You said I love ya' to him. Like he was someone important in your life." 

"Daryl, where do you think this is going? This is not the best approach. Need I remind you, Aaron is with Eric. He's gay. And, he is someone important in my life; as a brother." Squinting his eyes, Daryl tries to process the new found information. 

You continue after a while, "My brother had leukemia before all of this. He looked just like Aaron, identical. Things passed, he survived, but eventually nature's course caught on and h-he died. I had to kill him. You know, when he turned and all. I don't fear the living dead. I fear my loved ones."

"Ya' saw him in Aaron? Kinda like what Rick saw with Lori and all that shit." Daryl smashes the cigarette in his hands and throws it away into the grass. 

"Kind of, yeah. But, Daryl, you have to understand I don't like talking about my past life. I live for now-" You pause and take a step forward. Extending your hand in the air, you wait for Daryl to take it, but he never does. 

"Don't. Don't do this." You say. 

"I'm not jealous or angry, just confused is all. I thought he was gon' die. I thought they were gonna banish you or som'n. " 

"But, he's not dead. I'm here. It's just that Daryl. Nothing more, nothing less. If you don't want to be with me anymore, I'm not saying it won't hurt, but i'll understand." You say, smiling. It will hurt, you had given this man more than you had accounted for. You loved him. 

Comfortable silence falls in between both of you. Both looking into each others eyes as if they could reflect the hidden feelings, searching for answers. 

"I didn't think I could love someone as much as I love you and that's okay with me." You say after a while. 

"The fuck is up with that? Ya' said this wasn't gon' be love. That love had fucked ya' over. Else, I would've said something sooner." 

"What do you mean?" You say, hope laced in your words. 

"Hell, (Y/N). If it wasn't clear by now, I care about ya'. But, it makes me scared for some stupid reason. I sound stupid don't I?" Daryl says as he looks up at you through his dark lashes. His face shining under the moonlight as you take him in. 

"Stupid enough for me to love you and that's-" 

"Y'all coming in or what?" Carl's voice interrupts you guys as he looks through the window. 

Daryl scoffs and takes your hand, leading you to the door. 

"I love ya'. " He whispers as he opens the door. Only for you to hear, only for you to know.


End file.
